


The Enemy of My Enemy Is My (Sister's Ex-Girl)Friend

by StudGenius



Category: Queen Sugar (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Queer Character of Color, F/F, post episode 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9400313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudGenius/pseuds/StudGenius
Summary: The first meeting of the Nova Bordelon Gets On My Gotdamn Nerves Club is officially called to order.This takes place some time after Episode 8.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaloved30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaloved30/gifts).



> Mood music:
> 
> "Wine Glass Woman" - Mayer Hawthorne
> 
> I blame @shaloved30 and @youngerdrgrey for pulling casuallyqueer(orsomething)!Charley thoughts further out of my head. I won't be held responsible for this. *l*

Charley loves her family, even trifling-ass Nova, but after being cooped up in Vi's house with them (and Remy) she needs a little time and space and a little feel-like-myself-again. She also needs a little distance to put this latest cuddle buddy development in her flirtation with Remy into proper perspective. And ~~possibly~~ definitely a drink.

That's what leads her to the bar in one of the posher hotels in the city as she's coming back from greasing the rest of the palms at Gardini Prep, hair in a low bun and her black Gucci dress perfectly fitted for business - just enough to make you notice, but not so much as to make you stare.

She climbs up into a gilded barstool just to the left of the middle of the bar, observing the other patrons through the mirrored backsplash until the bartender sets her lunch down in front of her with a friendly wink. She lifts her fresh glass of red in a half salute / half thank-you and winks back. He's cute, and he knows a good tipper when he sees one. Charley makes a mental note to put a little extra in when she's ready to settle the check.

She's picking at her tuna nicoise salad and watching muted CNN when someone takes the seat next to her, and a voice, not entirely unfamiliar, orders a Jack-and-Coke and says, "How is it?"

"Hm?"

"Your salad. How is it?"

"It's-" She finally looks up while she's answering, and finds herself looking right at Nova's little girlfriend. Or fuck buddy. Friend with benefits? Whatever. It doesn't matter. _Oh, for fuck's sake._ "Hi."

"Hey."

"Taking a day off from backyard brawls?" Charley gestures to Chantal's outfit with her now almost-empty wine glass. She's wearing a crisp, white, nearly-perfectly tailored button up and equally fitted navy blue dress pants, a tiny, royal blue Zeta Phi Beta pin fixed to the starched fabric of her collar. She cleans up well.

And she has a sense of humor, laughing before answering, "I suppose I deserve that." Then she's sticking her hand out between them, grinning at Charley like she wasn't going to kick her ass behind Nova's antics just a few weeks ago. "I'm Chantal, by the way. We never officially met."

Charley eyes her hand for a little longer than what's polite before she takes it. "Charley." Chantal's grip is strong and warm, and her smile is nice and even warmer, and Charley wonders why she even notices. She should probably slow down on the wine.

"I know."

"Is my sister with you?" Charley looks around her, then over her head, genuinely hoping that the answer is no. She can't deal with Nova right now.

"No and no." Chantal sighs. "We're not together anymore."

Charley raises her eyebrows, then raises her wine glass. "Cheers."

Chantal makes a face somewhere between a grimace and a smirk and grunts in response. "She said we were moving too fast. Like it's my fault that being into me scares her. I guess I should've known something was up when she had her sister," she gestures at Charley, "rolling up to cuss her out first thing in the morning."

She laughs a little at that. "Nova is..." _Thief, adulterer, usurper, asshole, asshole, asshole._ "...Nova."

"Nova is Nova." She clinks her glass against Charley's and takes the rest of her drink down in one gulp. Holding up the now-empty glass, then looking at her and her now-empty wine glass, she asks. "You want one?"

"No. No, no, no. I shouldn't." She can already feel the wine blush spreading through her body and her brain from one glass. But by the time the bartender makes his way back to them, she's decided to take Chantal up on her offer, telling the man to put the round on her tab. Relaxation, right? And the company _has_ turned out to not be so bad, so far.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

Chantal nods her thanks, looking over at Charley again and making eye contact on accident. To her surprise, and, if she's honest, a little bit to her pleasure, Charley holds her gaze, and she's sure the other woman is studying her. She's as fine as everyone says she is when her face isn't contorted in anger. A different kind of fine than her sister, but that isn't a minus, all things considered.

Charley spends a little more time looking into intense, dark eyes than what's polite. Or entirely platonic. "What brings you here, anyway, if you don't mind me asking."

"Long way from the Lower Ninth, huh?"

Charley starts to say _"I didn't mean it like that,"_ but she notices that Chantal's grinning at her again, and manages to cross her arms over her chest, roll her eyes, suck her teeth, and huff a sigh all in under two seconds. That sets Chantal to laughing, of course, and Charley's sure she could manage a more genuine display of annoyance if the way the other woman's eyes crinkled in the corners and the way her cheek dimpled weren't so appealing. _Cute._

Charley's glad she's just tipsy enough not to question that thought. The attraction to women isn't new to her, though, it would be news to anyone else, except, maybe, Lena Evans. It is, however, inconvenient, all things and Remys considered. Relaxation and distractions, though, right? "Now I see what my sister saw in you."

Neither one of them is sure if she means it as a compliment or an insult. Chantal raises an eyebrow at her. "To answer your question, I had a meeting with some community leaders. Tryna build a fund and task force for storm clean-up and aid in the Ninth."

"Sounds like something Nova would be interested in."

Surely. But Chantal doesn't want to think about Nova right now. "What about you?" She sips her drink, and her lips are wet, and she catches the way Charley's eyes dip down, then come back up to meet hers.

"I could donate. Maybe put you in contact with some of the Stingers players' managers."

"We'd greatly appreciate it. But," Chantal puts her hand next to Charley's on the bar, strokes the side of it with her pinky, and looks Charley in the eye when she doesn't protest or pull away, "that's not what I meant." It's been too long for her liking since someone's touched her, and, husband troubles and the tension she still holds in her body even after two drinks considered, she's willing to bet the same is true for Charley.

"Oh." The smile drops from her face in exchange for a more surprised expression, but she doesn't move her hand away. "You know I'm married, right?"

"For now."

"For now," Charley agrees, then snaps her head back up from where she'd been looking at her rings. "That stays between us."

"My lips are sealed."

That brings Charley's eyes back down to her mouth. Then down her body. Then to her mouth again. "What other secrets can you keep?"

\------------------------------------------------

Charley gives Chantal her business credit card to book the room, then waits for her not too close to the elevators.

Luckily the hallway on the 12th floor is clear. Chantal opens the door, her hand finding Charley's lower back as waits for her to enter first.

She tenses, and when Chantal moves her hand away, says, "I've never done this before."

Chantal doesn't ask her what she means - the woman, the one-night stand (because, surely, this can never happen again), the somebody who's not her husband, the technical infidelity - because, with Charley, she's willing to bet it's all of the above. And, also, it doesn't matter. She's already set her clutch down, kicked off her high-heeled sandals and started on the buttons on her shirt when she says, "I'll be gentle."

Charley sets her purse down on the kitchenette island. "Don't be."

If she wasn't already turned on, that would've done it. She's on Charley in a second, hips pressing ever so slightly against her backside, slipping an arm around her waist, one hand stroking her stomach while the other slowly unzips her dress. Her nose nuzzles against her ear as she breathes her in and hums in appreciation, and Charley's glad she went with the Christian Dior Addict today. Chantal smells like clean linen and fresh citrus, with the hint of warm spice underneath, and Charley can't place the fragrance, but she knows it's making it even harder to keep her knees from buckling.

She lets out an embarrassingly loud moan when Chantal kisses her neck. It really has been way too long. Her lips are as soft as she'd imagined they'd be, and grinding back into her only serves to ratchet up her need to the point of no return. This is going to happen, and Charley's a little surprised at the second thoughts she doesn't have.

Relaxation and distraction, right?

Chantal steps back a little, lets her go so she can step out of her shoes and dress, and Charley finds that she misses her touch. She can feel Chantal's eyes on her, and it's nice to know where she stands with someone. To not have to wonder if her desire is genuine. To have her needs met with no expectations of feelings or love.

Her underwear match, of course, black and lacy and expensive, and as Chantal takes in the sight, she knows Davis West is the gotdamned fool she thought he was.

Charley surprises them both by grabbing Chantal by her belt buckle and leading her over to the tall queen bed, but Chantal takes control once they reach their destination, hands gripping Charley's shoulder and hip to bend her over the mattress. A hand runs down her back and between her buttocks, thumb pressing against places she'd never even let Davis go, as fingers caress her pussy through her underwear. She closes her eyes and lets herself float away on the feeling when Chantal nudges her thighs further apart with her own, and strums a finger against her clit.

When she takes her hand away, Charley lifts up to complain, only to have a hand grab her hair and push her back down into the bedspread. Before she can protest, though - not that she was really going to mean it - Chantal is tugging her panties down to her ankles and sliding the tips of two fingers inside of her without hesitation. 

She goes slowly, at first, pressing forward little by little, until she's fully sheathed in Charley and Charley's rocking back into her, back arched and sliding back and forth on her fingers at a pace that makes her clit throb. At this rate, she's probably going to come in her pants before Charley even gets the chance to reciprocate, and she's not sure she has a problem with that.

She moves faster inside of Charley when she's sure that she's ready, rotating her fingers to create more friction against her wetness. Her moans are muffled by the bedspread, but she's not quiet by any means, and she cries out when Chantal brings her palm down hard on her ass, the sting of it soothed by the cool air flowing through the room.

Charley's milking her fingers as she slams back against her, the sound of skin hitting fabric and Charley getting fucked loud in the soundproofed room. A litany of moans and _oh fuck_ s spill from her lips, and Chantal knows she's close because her walls are clenching around her and she tries to run a little, tries to scramble forward but doesn't get very far with the edge of the matress in her way.

Chantal smacks her ass again and pulls her back roughly, then brings her hand around to stroke Charley's clit. She leans over her to whisper in her ear. "Give it to me."

And for once in her life, Charley follows directions, giving in to the orgasm she's been fighting and coming so hard that no sound comes out until she's panting as she comes back down, trying to catch her breath and her emotions at the same time. Sex has been associated with love for so long in her brain, she's not really sure how to process feeling satisfied - _deeply_ satisfied - with no strings attached.

When she feels up to talking again, "Thank you," is what she says.

"You're very welcome."

It takes a little extra effort to turn over and pull herself all the way up onto the bed, but Charley manages, looks at Chantal, who reclines beside her, eyes roving over her body again. Her pants are still on, and Charley, ever the gracious host and businesswoman, wants to make sure she gets what she came for. She straddles her, hot and wet against her stomach. "Now what can I do for you?"

Chantal could think of a few different answers to that question, but she's not in the mood to teach. She wraps an arm around Charley and rolls them over, tells her to wait when she moves to wrap her legs around her waist so she can get up and get the rest of her clothes off.

Charley watches as she strips down, biting her bottom lip as she really takes in the sight of her, all brown, sun-kissed skin and curves everywhere, and she knows her sister is the gotdamned fool she's recently started to believe she is. "Look at you." It comes out way more breathy than Charley intended, but she's past the point of caring too much. The clanking of Chantal's belt being undone and the sound of her zipper coming down make the ache between her legs grow, and she wants to finish what they've started.

"Like what you see?" Chantal's black Calvin Klein thong hits the floor next, and Charley's sucked her lip all the way into her mouth now. She crooks a finger, beckoning her back to the bed, laughing when she's flat on her back again in no time, Chantal holding her thighs wide apart to lie between her legs and align their bodies perfectly.

They both groan at the first stroke of clit against clit. The way Chantal rolls her hips to thrust against her makes Charley tighten her grip, nails surely digging into her back. If it hurts, Charley's pretty sure she likes it that way, because, soon after, her thrusts have lost all finesse and she's pounding her into the matresss. All Charley can hear is the slapping of wet skin on wet skin and Chantal's panting against her cheek, where she can tell she's trying hard not to make it more intimate by giving in to the urge to kiss her. Her lips keep grazing the corner of her mouth, then pulling away, and Charley's sure neither one of them is going to last much longer.

She wraps her legs tightly around Chantal's waist and drags her nails down her back, revelling in her responsiveness, the way her whole body tenses, her cursing and moaning her name as she bucks against her.

Charley kisses her when they come, tongue stroking against Chantal's, and they stay that way for a while, bodies still rocking together as they ride the last waves of their pleasure into the afterglow.

Chantal rolls off of her to lay on her side and wraps an arm around Charley when she props herself up to face her. Charley's looking into her eyes, lips tightening and relaxing like she wants to say something, when her phone starts going off in her purse. She slides back and out of her embrace to go answer it, and Chantal sighs, flopping onto her back to watch her go.

Soft and breathy is replaced by blunt and clipped as she tends to the latest farm crisis Ralph Angel is tasking her with solving, and, by the time she's finished, Chantal is already dressed, shoes and all, and sitting on the edge of the bed. She looks ready to face the outside world again, where, by official record, _this_ never happened.

"Guess I should get back to it."

"Yeah. Me, too."

"You want me to wait...or..."

"No. No. You're good. Gonna take me a little while to pull myself back together, anyway." Her make-up, her hair, and her mind all need straightening out.

Chantal stands up to leave, then crosses the room to come over to her, instead, tugging the iPhone out of her hand to add a new contact. "For the task force."

Charley nods. "I'll call you."

And she does. But the next time they see each other, they're a little too busy being otherwise occupied to talk about fund raising. Relaxation and distractions, right?


	2. Lovers and Friends(?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who wouldn't want more of a (very) good thing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood Music:
> 
> "Gravity" - River Tiber
> 
> "Bed Time" - Maurice Moore
> 
> "Pressure" - Vanessa White

"Good morning," Chantal teased when Charley's eyes began to open, long, thick lashes fluttering against high cheekbones. She had to jump backwards to avoid being headbutted when Charley sprang up in a panic.

"Shit! What time is it??"

"Just 12:30. Relax."

Charley did, as she still had forty-five minutes before she needed to leave to pick up Micah, but not before smacking Chantal's shoulder. "Don't do that."

"Sorry."

She actually did sound genuinely remorseful, and she kissed Charley so tenderly in apology that she found it hard to remain annoyed, though she really wished that she could. She needed some kind of leverage in this thing they were doing if they were going to keep on doing it.

And Charley absolutely did want to keep on doing it.

It was only supposed to be a one-off. Her queer cherry popped. Her curiosity about Chantal and that tight body and hot boldness of hers satisfied in fine fashion. But it had only served to make her even more curious about what she didn't know about making love to women and what she didn't know about a certain woman named Chantal in particular. So she'd called her. And Chantal had answered. And Charley had come three times by time they were finished and had screamed so loud that their hotel room neighbor had banged on the wall.

So she'd kept calling. And Chantal had kept obliging her, _pleasing_ her when Lord knew that she needed the stress relief, and it just kind of became a thing.

"You're lucky you're cute."

" _You're_ lucky I'm cute."

Charley gave a light snort and a closed-mouth smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement and attraction when she tilted her head to rest it on her hand and looked at Chantal. "And to think you seemed so shy when we first met."

"What can I say? You make me come out of my shell."

Charley shook her head and started to keep the banter going, started to say _And you just make me come_ , but when she looked back at Chantal, the other woman raised her eyebrows and cackled, and Charley didn't know how to process that. She was pretty sure that she'd known what she was going to say without her even having to say it, and that was a little more feeling connected than she was prepared for at this stage in their...involvement.

They'd been doing _this_ for six weeks now, usually twice a week, give or take an inconvenient period or farm emergency, Monday mornings and Friday afternoons seeming to work best with everyone's schedule. And it was good. Fantastic, really. Charley had never felt so relaxed, and Chantal had never felt so skilled, and it had all been fairly easy. Drama free.

This was the first time they'd met at Aunt Vi's, though, Chantal rolling up after Aunt Vi had gone off to prepare the High Yellow for the weekend turn-up and Charley had returned from dropping Micah off at school. She'd been nearby enough on an errand to pick up something or other for the BLM office, and it had just seemed easier to invite her over than have the both of them drive all the way back to New Orleans.

This was also the longest they'd spent together, considering that Chantal had gotten there around 9:30, and they were in Charley's bed by 10, naked as the days they were born, save for the thin gold chain around Chantal's neck. It never took Chantal long to coax the first orgasm out of Charley or find her own while finding a different way to please her for round two, but Charley never usually succumbed to the pull of an afterglow nap until after she'd dressed and gone. And it wasn't that Charley didn't like it when they cuddled; quite the opposite, in fact. Which is why she'd made a point not to do it again after the first time she'd woken up on her chest and in her arms after a climax that had taken it all out of her.

But there she was again, sated and cozy and previously dozing contentedly in her companion's nook, her arm hugging Chantal's middle. It was nice. And warm, and soft, and fragrant with that fresh laundry and good food Chantal scent that Charley was rapidly developing an addiction to. And it was a little more connected than she wanted to feel at that point in their thing. And that was what made her glad to discover that Chantal had gotten up to retrieve her clothing from the floor while she'd been lost in her head.

Chantal had left the room without so much as a word or a backwards look, and Charley thought her feelings might've just been truly, legitimately hurt until she'd heard her moving around in the kitchen and ice cubes clinking into a glass. Then she was left wondering why she even gave a fuck. Chantal wasn't even a fuck buddy; she was a fuck acquaintance, and they both knew what it was and what it wasn't.

Then there had been footsteps in the hallway and Chantal rounding the corner to hand her the ice water, and kiss her cheek, and tell her that she'd see her Friday, and, God help Charley, it had made her feel a little warm inside. A little butterfly-y. Kinda like she had a crush.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  


By the time the they'd been fucking for three months, Charley had come to know a good number of Chantal's quirks and habits pretty well, but she still managed to surprise her in the bedroom, and, sometimes, outside of it, as well. Like when she'd told Charley she wasn't going to be able to make it to one of their scheduled Friday afternoon rendezvous because - and, to be fair, Charley _had_ asked- she had a lunch date.

Surely, the pain that Charley had felt clenching in her chest at that moment had been the irritation of being inconvienced. It certainly couldn't have been jealousy.

Certainly.

And surely, that irritation was what led her to text Chantal that Sunday evening and tell her to consider the following Monday morning canceled, as well. When her phone rang almost immediately afterwards, she, always a proper and professional business associate, had answered it.

"Hey. Charley. You good?"

"Yeah. Never better."

She knew her tone said otherwise, but fuck it. The owing of explanations hadn't been established in their fuck buddy bylaws. Much like rules on seeing or not seeing other people. _Clearly_.

"So when are we going to see each other again?"

"I don't know. I figured you might want to keep your schedule clear in case your date went well."

"Oh." Chantal had let out a humorless little laugh once she'd figured out - or confirmed, rather - where all this was coming from. "I don't see why that has to keep us from this."

"I didn't, either, but you set the precedence here, so you tell me how you want it."

"On your back with your legs over my shoulders."

That was a good one, Charley had to admit. Good enough to leave her speechless for about two beats too long and to get her clit's attention, not that it was the only one who was intrigued by that proposal. "......Okay."

"Okay. Monday gonna be good for you, afterall?"

"It'd better be."

Chantal chuckled, and it set Charley's teeth on edge. "Isn't it always?"

It was no coincidence that they'd met at Chantal's place for their next session. It wasn't like Charley wanted to mark her territory or anything.

Of course not.

She'd just been curious to see more of her friend's home, as she'd only been there once before, and they hadn't really made it past the plush leather sofa, where Charley had ended up bent over the arm with her heels still on. It wasn't like she felt the need to check her house for evidence that some other woman had been getting what she had begun to consider, in a way, hers.

She didn't even wait for Chantal to get the door closed before she started in on her. "Are you- Are you sleeping with this woman you've been dating? Because I need you to make sure she's been tested, and I need you to get re-tested before we can start back..."

"...Fucking?"

"Sleeping together."

"Fucking."

Charley made a face and rolled her eyes. And she wasn't sure she liked the way Chantal was looking at her. She looked hungry.

"Say it." Chantal took two steps closer to her.

"Say what?" They were nose-to-nose then, thanks to Charley's wedge boots, and she could feel her heart begin to beat faster and harder.

"Say ' fucking.'" Chantal punctuated her sentence with a sound kiss on the lips, her arm wrapping tightly around Charley's waist to pull her in even closer against her body. She smiled at the look of pure consternation on her face.

"Did you hear a word I just said?" Charley's tone was tough, but she didn't make any moves to distance herself from her embrace.

"Yeah, Charley. I hear you loud and clear. I haven't had sex with anyone else. And we're not dating. There was one date. One. If any of that changes you'll be the first to know. So anymore questions? Because I'm ready." Chantal began walking Charley backwards towards the sofa, only to be stopped with a hand on her chest.

"Bedroom."

"Shiiiit. A'ight."

She led Chantal down her hallway by the handful of her black tanktop she'd grabbed, took a left where Chantal told her and pulled her through the second doorway on the right when Chantal pointed.

Her bedroom was nice, spacious and clean and done all in complimentary shades of green jewel tones. The fragrance of what Charley would come to know was palo santo and sandalwood lightly perfumed the air. The spacious bed in the middle of the room looked very comfortable, luckily for Charley, because she'd found herself unceremoniously shoved on her back onto it as soon as she'd kicked her boots off and Chantal had slipped the khaki blazer from her tense shoulders.

Chantal followed shortly after, climbing up and on top of her, settling in in between her legs, pelvis to pelvis. Her eyes had already began to darken with lust when she'd looked down at Charley, her hand slipping under to cradle her head and guide her into a deep, stirring kiss.

Charley's hips began to shift up against her on their own accord, and Chantal met her movements, using her thighs to spread Charley's further open before grinding down into her slowly, the way she rotated her hips making Charley feel sinful. And horny as fuck.

Unbelievably soft, full lips ghosted across her cheek to find the tender juncture of her neck and jawline and suckle. They both knew it would leave a mark, but neither one of them could find a damn to give in the moment. Charley's moans were beginning to get loud, and Chantal was beginning to feel like she deserved some relief and some reassurance. Charley's fingers were sliding slowly through her curls, and she had to close her eyes against the sensation to gather herself.

She shifted off of her to stand up, Charley's eyes fluttering open to follow her movements as she pulled the tank top up and over her head, revealing a black bra that soon followed it to the floor. She pulled her black tights down her legs next, leaving herself in a pair of those high-cut Calvin Klein panties that Charley liked her in so much and making Charley laugh when she tugged them down to her ankles, kicked them off, and caught them with one hand. The sight of her undressing never got old. Her plum lipstick was smeared across Chantal's mouth and trailed across her chin, and she'd never seen her look more beautiful, her clit throbbing at the sight of her tying her hair back into a bun. The last time Chantal had tasted her, she'd wound up leaving a nice collection of red scratch welts down the back of her neck that Chantal had worn as a badge of honor for the rest of the week.

Charley felt like a kid on Christmas Day, and she was the next package to be unwrapped, sitting up to unbutton her own white dress shirt while Chantal worked on her jeans, the dark denim and silky black panties underneath winding up tossed into growing pile of clothes on her floor in no time. Trouser socks flew next. She did stop to fold Charley's shirt and place it over the back of a chair when she'd handed it to her, though, ever the gentlewoman.

"How long do you have today?" she'd asked once she was lying on her side beside her, stroking a hand over her stomach as Charley reached over to work a nipple into an even firmer peak. Chantal's eyes were almost closed in pleasure, and Charley wouldn't lie; having that kind of effect on her made her feel powerful and proud of herself.

"As long as you want me for."

Micah was staying with Nova that night, she didn't have any farm or Davis business scheduled to attend to, and Aunt Vi, luckily, wasn't in the habit of keeping track of grown folks' comings and goings, so Charley, for once, was free to experience each and everything Chantal had in store for her. She had to admit, though, the way Chantal's only answer had been a pleased little hum in the back of her throat scared her just a little bit.

She kissed Charley's cheek, then rolled back on top of her, their lips reconnecting as Charley melted at the feel of skin on skin, Chantal's hips having become insistent and impatient between her thighs. Her pace hadn't quickened, but she was thrusting against her deep and hard enough to make the bedframe creak underneath them, and Charley wanted to come just like that.

That thought, moaned into Chantal's ear, was met with a deep breath and a nod, the rhythm she set in response making Charley pant and clutch at her back, and it wasn't long before they were climaxing together.

Chantal sank against her, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath and came down.

"Just let me know when your ready," Chantal had said. And Charley had nodded and _uh-huh_ ed.

They'd woken up an hour later still wrapped up in each other, and Chantal had proceeded to make good on the promise her hair in a bun had made, devouring Charley until she'd pushed her head away, clamped her thighs shut, and rolled over to curl up on her side, laughingly, but seriously, imploring her not to touch her again until every nerve ending in her body was no longer short-circuiting. 

She'd slept for another hour after that, waking up to the sound of Chantal laughing at something that was playing softly on the TV. She recognized it as something Kid 'N' Play-related, but it didn't look like any of the House Partys that she'd actually seen (which was only 1 and 2).

She shifted under the blanket Chantal had draped over her to lie on her back, the movement making Chantal's head turn halfway away from the television. "Mm. What's so funny?"

"Shit, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Charley put her hand on Chantal's forearm. "No." The _I love it when you laugh_ that she was going to follow up with luckily didn't make its way into her mouth. "I'm just up. Is this House Party?"

"Nope. Class Act." When that news got a non-reaction out of Charley, Chantal turned all the way around to face her, jaw dropped. "Please tell me you've seen it."

Charley shook her head, and Chantal let out the most scandalized of gasps.

"We gotta fix that. ASAP."

And Charley had agreed because why the fuck not. Fuck buddies could enjoy the occasional 90s comedy together, right? By the time she'd come back from the bathroom, Chantal had a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of Gatorade ready, and she'd looked so cute sitting there, naked and crossed-legged with a handful of kettle corn, that Charley had snuggled into her side while she restarted the DVD.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Friday rolled around, Charley woke to find that her period had started, and cursed, grumbling all the way from the bathroom back to the guestroom before reaching for her phone to text Chantal.

When her phone rang almost immediately afterwards, she picked it up because she wanted to hear Chantal's voice.

"Hey, Charley. You good?"

Yeah. Never better."

Chantal laughed. "Anything I can do?"

"Um, yeah, actually. Tell me...if this sounds...stupid, or like crossing a line, but...you wanna watch another movie?"

Chantal was silent for a while, and Charley was considering hanging up and texting her that she should pretend this had never happened when she finally responded. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds dope. But only on one condition."

Charley had always liked a good negotiation. "What's that?"

"It's a date. Not a pussy appointment. I don't make movie dates that only involve movie watching with fuck friends."

"So what would that make us then?"

"I don't know. But we can talk about that when I see you. When and where do you wanna be seen?"

"Here's good. I've got the place to myself again. You just pick a movie and get your cute butt over here, and I'll see what I can do about snacks." She was smiling, and she knew that Chantal could hear it in her voice, and she didn't care.

"Already got it. Pootie Tang."

"' _Pootie Tang_ '??"

" _Yes_ , Pootie Tang. It's a classic! The man's power was in his ponytail; surely, you can relate to that."

"Shut up," Charley laughed.

Chantal's answering low chuckle made her clit jump. "So it's a date?"

"Yes, Chantal." The smile and the laughter were still in her voice. "It's a date. See you soon."

"See ya."

And Charley got up to get dressed, really looking forward to their date and getting to know more about Chantal outside of the bedroom. Kinda like she really, really liked her.


End file.
